on my torso disappeared. The cuts on my face began to knit back together. My freezer-burned skin started healing. I opened my eyes and stared at the white ceiling, no hideous ghost faces blocking the view. Casper forced me to my feet. We stumbled down the hall and back into the parking garage.
“What the hell was that about?” I examined the areas of my body that were freezer-blackened by the ghost.
“They couldn’t get into your body.” I could sense him grinning through his exhaustion.
“And why is that?” I asked.
“’Cause I am a possessive little freak. Put a spell on you,” he boasted. “I am the only ghost getting into your pants.”
I snorted. The kid was funny. “Thanks, I guess. Why’d you do that?”
“I may be a ghost but I’m not a moron,” he deadpanned. “It’s protecting you. Promise.”
I frowned. “Why do I see them now?”
I rubbed at my temples. Now that the poltergeist assault was over, the pain of sharing my head with this kid was grating again.
“Because we need you, mi pequeña vampira.”
“Who needs me?” I asked sharply. “And how the hell do you know…?”
But Casper oozed out of my head before I could ask him how he knew I was a vampire. And why did he insist on hanging around?
Casper didn’t leave right away. I turned to where he hovered by me, ready to assault him with questions. The greenish cast of his face stopped me. He favored his left arm, a hand pressed over his bicep.
"Show me." I motioned towards his arm.
He took his right hand away, and I gasped. I couldn't help myself. His flesh, turned a black and purple color like a bruise, dripped away from the bone. Like the poltergeists that attacked, his ephemeral body was rotting away.
I reached for him, and caught nothing but air. He disappeared.
"Thank you, I guess," I whispered into the air. A gentle gust of cold air brushed the back of my neck in acknowledgment. With my battered body on the mend, I staggered towards the street. I didn't care that I lost track of Max. I was so done with the Biltmore.
Stomping through the parking structure and muttering the string of Spanish curses learned from Babe, I walked straight into Max. Literally. After impact, I skidded away from him, nearly landing flat on my ass. Me falling on my ass was clearly becoming a thing where Max was concerned.
"Nina?" Max gripped my arm to steady me. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping." I eyed him. "You?"
"This is where I am staying," he said with a smile.
"Here?" My eyes narrowed to slits.
He nodded. "Yep, the Biltmore."
Crap. That wasn't good. I suddenly felt a weight press down on my chest, and I knew that some bad juju was spilling out of the hotel again. I turned on my heel and began to walk quickly back to my bike, Max almost running to catch up.
"Wait! Where are you running off to?" He caught up and touched my shoulder. A jolt of electricity shot down my arm. I half-expected to see sparks shoot out of my fingers.
"Coffee!" It was the first thing I could think of.
"My treat?" Max smiled. "But you pick the place. And Dunkin Donuts is a little too played out around here."
I motioned to the Triumph. We crossed the street and I handed him my helmet. I straddled the bike and Max got on back and wrapped his arms around me. I felt relief as I tore down the street, away from the Biltmore and out of site of the botanica. I headed south, back to Federal Hill. An espresso at Venda Ravioli sounded like a good idea. And I needed to find out what Max was doing in that botanica.
CHAPTER 13
Venda Ravioli is an old-school joint that is a mix between Italian bakery, butcher and corner deli. It serves up prepared foods like a deli, has some of the most sensational meats like a gourmet butcher, and has some of the best espresso and Italian pastries on the planet. We settled into a table and I inhaled the glorious cappuccino steam. I had a plate of ricotta cookies to nibble on, and a slab of
“What the hell was that about?” I examined the areas of my body that were freezer-blackened by the ghost.
“They couldn’t get into your body.” I could sense him grinning through his exhaustion.
“And why is that?” I asked.
“’Cause I am a possessive little freak. Put a spell on you,” he boasted. “I am the only ghost getting into your pants.”
I snorted. The kid was funny. “Thanks, I guess. Why’d you do that?”
“I may be a ghost but I’m not a moron,” he deadpanned. “It’s protecting you. Promise.”
I frowned. “Why do I see them now?”
I rubbed at my temples. Now that the poltergeist assault was over, the pain of sharing my head with this kid was grating again.
“Because we need you, mi pequeña vampira.”
“Who needs me?” I asked sharply. “And how the hell do you know…?”
But Casper oozed out of my head before I could ask him how he knew I was a vampire. And why did he insist on hanging around?
Casper didn’t leave right away. I turned to where he hovered by me, ready to assault him with questions. The greenish cast of his face stopped me. He favored his left arm, a hand pressed over his bicep.
"Show me." I motioned towards his arm.
He took his right hand away, and I gasped. I couldn't help myself. His flesh, turned a black and purple color like a bruise, dripped away from the bone. Like the poltergeists that attacked, his ephemeral body was rotting away.
I reached for him, and caught nothing but air. He disappeared.
"Thank you, I guess," I whispered into the air. A gentle gust of cold air brushed the back of my neck in acknowledgment. With my battered body on the mend, I staggered towards the street. I didn't care that I lost track of Max. I was so done with the Biltmore.
Stomping through the parking structure and muttering the string of Spanish curses learned from Babe, I walked straight into Max. Literally. After impact, I skidded away from him, nearly landing flat on my ass. Me falling on my ass was clearly becoming a thing where Max was concerned.
"Nina?" Max gripped my arm to steady me. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping." I eyed him. "You?"
"This is where I am staying," he said with a smile.
"Here?" My eyes narrowed to slits.
He nodded. "Yep, the Biltmore."
Crap. That wasn't good. I suddenly felt a weight press down on my chest, and I knew that some bad juju was spilling out of the hotel again. I turned on my heel and began to walk quickly back to my bike, Max almost running to catch up.
"Wait! Where are you running off to?" He caught up and touched my shoulder. A jolt of electricity shot down my arm. I half-expected to see sparks shoot out of my fingers.
"Coffee!" It was the first thing I could think of.
"My treat?" Max smiled. "But you pick the place. And Dunkin Donuts is a little too played out around here."
I motioned to the Triumph. We crossed the street and I handed him my helmet. I straddled the bike and Max got on back and wrapped his arms around me. I felt relief as I tore down the street, away from the Biltmore and out of site of the botanica. I headed south, back to Federal Hill. An espresso at Venda Ravioli sounded like a good idea. And I needed to find out what Max was doing in that botanica.
CHAPTER 13
Venda Ravioli is an old-school joint that is a mix between Italian bakery, butcher and corner deli. It serves up prepared foods like a deli, has some of the most sensational meats like a gourmet butcher, and has some of the best espresso and Italian pastries on the planet. We settled into a table and I inhaled the glorious cappuccino steam. I had a plate of ricotta cookies to nibble on, and a slab of
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